


Dreaming

by nakadoo



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:26:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakadoo/pseuds/nakadoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ishimaru has a bad dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming

It’s a reoccurring dream that has kept him up for several months by now, and as much as he’d love to figure things out he can’t. He’s woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, brows knitting together in confusion, fear and anguish. He doesn’t remember what happens, but there is a painful vice around his heart each time that he just can’t seem to throw off.

It’s the third time that week that he’s woken up in the middle of his sleep, eyes leaking with tears that have had no reason to be shed (at least, that is what he is aware of). A quick glance to the digital clock at his bedside table tells him that it’s fifteen minutes past three in the morning, and most certainly a horrible time to be awake. It’s dark, and eerily quiet, but he’s grown used to it by now, having been woken up by his dreams for far too many times to count. There is a dull ache at the back of his head and he tries his best to ignore it.

It’s against the rules to be out of your room past curfew, and by all means he would abide by those rules if he were in any better mental state, but he’s not so he excuses himself as he sits up and wipes his eyes. The room is dark, the only light source being the digital clock at his bedside table but he’s memorized the format of his room so it’s easy to navigate through to the door despite the handicap of darkness. 

He twists the doorknob as gently as he can, not wishing to wake the other students up, and steps into the dimly lit hallways of the dormitory. He’s in nothing but his pajama pants and a shirt that used to belong to his father, so old and worn that its design could barely be made out. It’s cold, and he hugs himself as he makes his way to the room that he knows he will be welcomed.

He raises his fist, lacking the confidence that he usually possesses, and he hesitates. He berates himself silently, with his hand still hovering only a few centimeters away from the door. He’s not a child anymore, who needs reassurances or words of comfort just because of a dream. He’d be a nuisance, at three in the morning no less! How foolish of him, to think like that, to resort to the mental state of a scared child. How deplorable.

“Kiyotaka?” a voice calls to him, and it snaps him out of the stupor he was in. He draws his hand back abruptly, turning his head to the side so fast it made his head ache worse. It was Mondo in the white wife-beater that he never seems to take off and white and blue striped pajama pants. His hair wasn’t in its usual style; it was let loose and unruly at the top, and tied haphazardly in a ponytail at the back. He was holding a cup of what smelled like hot chocolate in one hand and in the other a bag of marshmallows. He raised an eyebrow at Ishimaru who stood frozen in front of his room.

Ishimaru turns his body to face his friend, offering him a queasy smile. “It’s against the rules to be out this late,” he informs him. “And I would suggest that you do not eat in your room,” he adds.

Mondo snorted and rolled his eyes. If they weren’t friends, he would have told him off or maybe even punch him if Ishimaru were his usual rule-abiding self. “What, are you going to give me a detention slip or something?” he jokingly says, walking up to his friend and raising the bag of marshmallows to offer him some.

He refuses the marshmallows and steps aside to give the biker room to open the door. “I will think about it,” he says, but really, past curfew means he is no longer in charge of handing detention slips because he has the duty as a student to get enough sleep to stay awake in his classes the next day. He looks at Mondo as he fiddles with the doorknob, his mind trailing off to the current matter that he needed to attend to. “Say, Mondo…”

Finally getting the door open, he pushes it forward and turns to look at the hall monitor. “What?” he asks, leaning against his door to keep it open. There was something off, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was because Ishimaru was out when he wasn’t supposed to be? That could be it, he supposed, and left it at that.

He finds a sense of relief when he’s with the biker, and he finds it almost embarrassing that his emotional dependence lay with someone he used to loath. He’s never felt the need to have a shoulder to cry on (but he could have used one when he was younger, he thinks) so it really puzzles him as to why he thinks that Mondo will make him feel better. “I…” He lets out a breath, looking up at Mondo who had both brows up in question. “I had a bad dream,” he admits.

It wasn’t what the biker was expecting, and his eyebrows stay where they are in question. Ishimaru doesn’t elaborate on it. He leans back more into the door, thinking of what he should say. After a few seconds, he nods his head towards his room. “Come in,” he tells Ishimaru and he holds the door open for him. He flicks the light switch on and closes the door after the hall monitor enters.

It’s not his first time being in Mondo’s room, but it was his first time being in it at night. It was the same, mostly, except for the fact that it was a little cold and his wooden desk was covered in woodchips and tools. Ishimaru approached it, to see why there was a mess, and found that there was work in progress. “Mondo, it’s against school rules to deface school property,” he scolds, this time with a little irritation behind it. He picks up the trash bin beside the desk and brushes the woodchips off into it.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he growls and plops on his bed, spilling some of his hot chocolate on the sheets. He swears and puts the marshmallows down, wiping the stain with his hand in vain. “But being cooped up in this place for who even knows how long is drivin’ me nuts,” he explains, taking a marshmallow out of the bag and eats it. “Been tryin’a do something productive and shit,” he shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his chocolate and burns his tongue in the process. He sets it aside to let it cool.

“That is all and well, but couldn’t you have used something else instead of this?” Ishimaru asks, and sets the trash bin back down once the desk is clear of woodchip. He looks at what it is that Mondo was craving and he is at awe. “You carved this?” he asks, dipping his fingers down to touch the work of art. He knows that Mondo aspires to be a carpenter one day, but this is the first time he’s actually seen anything of his works.

“Yeah,” he replies through a mouth full of marshmallows. “Chi drew a design and I thought it was pretty cool so I wanted to surprise him with this,” he says, shrugging his shoulders again.

“It’s very well done!” Ishimaru exclaims, and for a moment he actually forgets why he’s in Mondo’s room in the first place. “I’m so proud of you, Kyoudai! I’m sure in no time you’ll be able to even create rococo-esque works!”

“Roccocco???” His face scrunches up in confusion. He shakes his head (he doesn’t need to know what a coco is anyways) and tosses a marshmallow at the back of Ishimaru’s head. “Oi, kyoudai, aren’t you going to tell me about your bad dream or something? Isn’t that how it usually goes?” he questions, scratching the back of his head in thought. That’s what friends do right? Talk about what’s bothering them?

The hall monitor is brought back to the feeling of anxiety he felt when he woke up. “A-ah, yes. Of course.” He turns the light off and wanders to Mondo’s bed and flicks on the lamp at the bedside table. He sits next to him and again refuses a marshmallow when it’s offered to him. “I don’t exactly know how to explain it,” he admits.

“I dunno, what even happened in the dream? Let’s start there,” Mondo suggests, dropping a marshmallow into his cup of chocolate.

Ishimaru sighs. “That is just the thing, I can’t remember what happened.”

“Ah? Then how do you know it was bad?” he takes a sip of his chocolate, and finally sets the marshmallows aside. Ishimaru did look a little different than how he usually looks. In fact, it looks like he was crying. He kept quiet.

“It’s silly, I know,” Ishimaru says, twiddling his thumbs. He draws his legs up so his knees touch his chest and he pulls the blanket over and shifts his legs under the sheet. “I honestly don’t know how to explain it, nor did I have the intention to actually,” he confessed. “I just… uh, just didn’t want to be alone.”

There were a few minutes of silence between them, with Ishimaru just slowly sinking down beneath the sheets and Mondo silently sipping at his drink till it was gone.

Mondo reaches over Ishimaru and turns the lamp off, darkness once more encompassing them. He shifts, joining the hall monitor under the sheets and he stares absently up at the ceiling.

A few more minutes of silence; the digital clock reading eighteen minutes to four in the morning.

“When I was a kid,” Mondo starts, breaking the silence. “I had a dream. Don’t laugh okay, it’s kinda stupid.”

Ishimaru turns so that he’s laying on his side, facing his friend and keeps quiet.

“I was at my house just watchin’ Saturday morning cartoons like I always do. And like, I dunno how it happened but monsters started coming outta the tube, y’know and I just stared all scared and shit.” He rubbed his nose, and then reached behind his head to pull his ponytail loose. 

The prospect of Mondo as a child amused Ishimaru, and brought a smile to his face. He couldn’t quite picture how he’d look like. Did he have the pompadour even as a child or was his hair styled in another way? Was Mondo chubby as a child? He makes a mental note to ask for a picture someday.

Mondo continued. “The monsters said they were gonna eat my brother and then they were gonna eat me. Fuckin’ freaked me the fuck out. I ran away from them and then they did get Daia first. Got me cornered in my own room and just when they were about to get me I woke up.”

“That’s terrifying,” Ishimaru says, feeling a little bit sorry for younger Mondo.

“Damn right it was,” Mondo laughed. “I woke up in the middle of the night and ran to Daia’s room just to see if he was okay. He was, thank god, but then I started cryin’ at his door because I was so scared.”

Ishimaru nods in understanding, shifting his body so he was facing the ceiling as well.

“And, well, he let me sleep in his room that night too. Made me feel hella lot better,” he added, turning his head to face Ishimaru. “So, y’know, I thought that maybe you’d feel better too if you slept here.”

A smile slowly grows on Ishimaru’s face and he moves to give the other a hug. “I definitely feel better.”

It’s dark and neither of them can see each other’s smiles but it doesn’t really matter. Mondo ruffles Ishimaru’s hair affectionately and sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep, Kiyotaka.”

“Good night, Mondo. And thank you.”

\------------------------------------------------

The heart stopping anxiety he feels gripping at him is an all too familiar feeling, but he doesn’t really know why. He stares in horror as Naegi claims the murderer was Mondo.

But it can’t be, it can’t possibly be.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't clear, the whole dream talking about time was before their memories were erased but after they agreed to be locked in.
> 
> Roccoco is fancy woodwork carvings :>


End file.
